


To Warm the Winter's Cold

by Allekha



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Blizzards & Snowstorms, Extra Treat, First Dates, M/M, Pre-Canon, Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 04:53:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12574144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allekha/pseuds/Allekha
Summary: When a snowstorm leaves them stuck after a competition, Chris takes Victor on a date to cheer him up.





	To Warm the Winter's Cold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [IdleLeaves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IdleLeaves/gifts).



Chris hadn't bothered to check the news or the weather forecast in the past couple of days – busy as he was with the competition, the afterparty, et cetera – and so he was blindsided when he woke up and saw snow falling thick and heavy outside his window. He couldn't help but go over to the glass and press himself against it to look out, to watch the flakes dance in the pre-dawn and the streetlights. It was beautiful.

And then he noticed how hard it was coming down, and he dug up his phone to check, and – yes, a snowstorm had started blowing in late last night, it was going to be snowing all day, and his flight had already been canceled. Lovely.

Ah, snow. So pretty. So nice to look at while snuggling up with someone warm. So much fun to scatter in the sunlit air. So disruptive.

Chris pulled on some clothes and went to talk to the front desk before everyone else realized that they were stuck, too. There was already a small crowd even at this hour, but he eventually emerged with an extended reservation. He texted his coach the good news and decided that flights could wait until later. Breakfast, first.

And who else was in the mostly-empty breakfast area but Victor, sitting by himself at a table by the window? "What's someone like you doing here all by yourself?" Chris asked as he sat next to him with his own food.

Victor turned from the window – it was lighter outside, now, so the snow looked only faintly blue, still as pretty as ever – and gave him a small smile. "Yakov's taking care of things, and I think Yuri and Mila are still asleep."

They exchanged small talk for a couple of minutes, then fell into a comfortable silence. Chris concentrated on his food and watched the snow outside, saw a couple of pedestrians braving the drifts on the sidewalk in sturdy boots and scarves pulled over their noses. His gaze drifted to Victor again, and something about his expression made him pause and nudge him with his knee until Victor looked over. "Everything alright?"

"Yes?"

"You look awfully sad for someone who just won gold." Again. After yet another incredible performance. Chris was starting to wonder if taking silver when Victor was also on the ice was the equivalent of gold for the rest of them. He swallowed his bitterness down for the moment. "Is everything okay?" he asked again.

"I'm fine." Victor put on another smile, but it wasn't a real one, and it didn't last long. He turned back to the window. "I was just thinking." When Chris nudged him again, he added, "About what would happen if I retired."

This wasn't something they tended to talk about. Chris scraped at his yogurt with his spoon. After a long moment, when Victor didn't elaborate, he quietly asked, "Are you going to?"

Sometimes Chris felt like there was a clock hanging over them, always ticking down, but never letting them see how much time was left. He knew that he couldn't do this forever – that humans were not meant to throw themselves in the air above the ice again and again a thousand times over, that spry young things that hadn't yet worn away their bodies were always sprouting up, poised to take their places. But even after he was no longer competitive, Chris wasn't going to leave the ice forever. He would figure something out.

And nobody ought to blame Victor for retiring, after all he'd accomplished. But it didn't seem like him. Chris had spent enough time on the ice with him, had watched him come up with something new year after year. He knew Victor loved it. So unless he was injured and had managed to hide it well enough to skate at almost his best a couple of days ago....

Chris was relieved when Victor shook his head. "I said I was just thinking."

"In need of a break, then?" and Victor gave him a look. "What? Everyone needs time away from work. Even world champions like us."

"You say that as if we have time for a vacation," Victor sighed, and Chris nudged him harder than before.

"You're stuck here until flights are going out again, aren't you? Come take a day off in the city with me. We can make a date of it."

"A date, huh," Victor repeated, his voice going wistful.

Chris had half meant it as a joke, the sort of teasing that often passed between them. Like taking risqué photos of each other for social media, or posting photos of them kissing the other's cheek and letting the people in the comments draw their own conclusions. Victor's expression made him wonder, not for the first time, if he wanted it to be more than that.

"If you want," Chris said softly. Victor glanced at him sideways, his eyelashes shining silver in the light from the window, then down toward his coffee.

Chris didn't push; he returned to what remained of his food. "Okay," he heard, and then there was suddenly a heavy head on his shoulder. "Take me on a proper date, Chris."

"A _proper_ one? Hm, I think I can manage that for you." The head on his shoulder shifted off as Victor reached over to drain the last of his coffee. Chris took the opportunity to check his phone; there was a text from his coach saying that he was figuring out their flights. Excellent. "Did you want to get going now?"

They split up to grab their outwear from their respective rooms, and Chris spared a moment to look a couple of things up, ideas already forming in his head. He'd been dragged around enough cities by Victor to have some idea of what he liked when sightseeing.

When they tromped on out of their hotel, the world instantly felt silent. There were cars rolling by, the wind blowing the snowflakes at an angle, but beyond that was the peculiar noiselessness of a good snowfall. Victor smiled upward, before squinting and bowing his head to rub the flakes from his eyes.

"Come on," Chris said with a little laugh, and he led the way down the street. The snow on the sidewalk hadn't been properly trodden down upon yet, and it hadn't been cleared at all. It was a bit of a struggle to stomp through drifts that were already halfway to his knees and to try not to slip on the places that were already flattened somewhat.

Chris caught Victor blowing on his bare hands a couple of crosswalks later. "I forgot to pack gloves," he explained sheepishly. "I'll buy some later."

"Here." Chris took off his right glove and handed it to Victor, who took it with a puzzled expression and slipped it on. That left them with one uncovered hand each, which Chris pulled together. "Better?"

Victor looked at their hands, slowly twined their fingers, and gave him a smile in return. It was cold – Victor's hands were like ice even after having been stuffed in his pockets – and thanks to several drunken adventures it wasn't the first time he'd held Victor's hand, but this was different. It had been too long since Chris had done something like this. If felt like they could have been any two people stupid enough to go on a date during a blizzard, trying to navigate down the sidewalks without letting go of each other's hands. 

When they reached their destination, Victor arched his eyebrows and went, "Really, Chris?" as he pulled him inside.

"Yes, really."

"I thought the idea was to do something other than work."

"We're not going to be practicing at a public rink, Victor. Don't you like the ice? When's the last time you went skating for the fun of it?"

Victor was quiet for a moment. "Whenever Yakov last yelled at me for sneaking into the rink late at night," he said with a laugh that was a little too bright. Chris was about to say that they could leave if he really wanted, there were other things they could do, but then Victor sighed and tugged Chris over to the counter.

It really wasn't anything like practice. They both complained to each other about the rental skates, and while the ice wasn't crowded, a surprising amount of other people had apparently taken a look at the blizzard and decided that it was a good time to skate. As soon as they were on the ice, Victor took his hand again, and they joined the general flow of people skating (or trying to skate, in some cases that they had to dodge around).

No jumps. No step sequences. No spins. The glide of their skates on the ice, going in and out of time with each other, was meditative.

"This is nice," Victor said eventually.

"Yeah?" When Victor said nothing further, Chris fished for a topic that wasn't about skating and said, "How's Makkachin doing?"

"She's fine. I miss her, but she's probably having a fun walk right now. And how's kitty?"

"Good. Although I know as soon as I get back, she won't let me forget that I abandoned her. She always starts following me around, demanding hours of attention to make up for it, insisting on sleeping right on my chest...."

"Sounds like Makkachin. I thought cats were supposed to be less...." Victor waved his free hand.

"So did I! And yet."

They chattered about their pets for a while, and when they fell into another lull, Victor's hand squeezed Chris's, then let go. The area in front of them was clear, and he sped up and turned to skate backwards in front of Chris. Nobody had recognized them yet; it might have helped that Victor had tucked most of his fringe into his hat, probably to keep it from flying into his eyes in the wind. He took both of Chris's hands in his. "Here."

"What are you doing?" Chris asked, amused, as he was pulled along, first behind Victor and then beside him. "Are you going into pairs now?"

"There's a thought. Maybe if you do all the lifts?"

"All of them? Victor."

"No, you're right, it should be the other way around. You're younger, it should hurt less when I drop you, right?"

"If you say things like that, I'm not giving you the chance to drop me at all."

Victor pouted at him, but he only managed it for a few moments before his grin won out. He pulled Chris into a half-turn and let go, then raced ahead; unfortunately for him, Chris was a better sprinter and caught up easily, grabbed him from behind. Victor managed to wriggle free, only to take Chris's arm and pull him along again. They skated around another couple who were trying to keep each other up, and then Victor went faster, which meant Chris had to speed up, too.

By the time they finally stepped off the ice, Chris couldn't keep the smile off his face. They sat down to split a small hot cocoa, and he couldn't keep his eyes off Victor, either. His cheeks were pink, the corners of his mouth turned up, and he looked so much happier than he had at breakfast. "Did you enjoy yourself?" Chris asked, though he already knew the answer.

Victor nodded, then held out the cup. Chris framed his hands around Victor's and leaned forward to take a sip. It was kind of watery and mostly tasted of sugar. But it was hot, and they took turns drinking it. Out on the ice, a gaggle of kids were racing each other; a couple of them were pretty okay, but the rest kept falling, then scrabbling up. Had they been that young, once? So shaky on their blades? Chris actually couldn't remember when he had first learned to skate. He mentioned this to Victor as they finished their drink and stood to leave, and Victor turned out to have much more vivid memories to share.

Chris listened as they headed toward the older area of town, not going anywhere in particular. Victor had given back his glove, and instead threaded his arm through Chris's and kept trying to stick his hand in Chris's pocket. It would work for a minute or two, now that they were somewhere with more passable sidewalks, but then he would have to pull it out as they stomped through another difficult patch.

They admired the statues of people they couldn't name in the park they passed through, took photos of the old, pretty churches standing quiet in the snow. It was Victor who picked a place for lunch by tugging Chris into a restaurant that was exactly the kind of place he liked to try at random when sightseeing: small, cute, warm, maybe a little quirky.

"Where should we go next?" Victor asked as they waited for the food, staring out at the snow again. They had options – museums if they wanted to go inside, a movie theater that seemed to be mostly known for being old and nice-looking, a historical riverside district. "You pick," Victor said before he could mention any of them. "Surprise me?"

Despite the weather, Chris wasn't much in the mood for museums, and they could always snuggle up to watch Netflix later back at the hotel. He liked the snow, and the way Victor kept pressing into him when they were out in it. The old riverfront it was.

It turned out to be a good choice; the snow had lightened by the time they finished their hot lunch, and Victor brightened at the sight of the old buildings. Chris didn't know anything about architecture, but they were all pretty and decorated like gingerbread, especially with all the snow on them. Given the weather, they had most of the streets to themselves. Victor kept stopping to admire various places, and he took pictures of anything interesting and pulled Chris in for more than a few selfies.

It was like how he always was when being a tourist, curious and excited about everything; in Japan it had been temples and plastic food displays, in China the groups of elders doing tai chi in the mornings, in Switzerland the cows and the meadows. It was cute to see him being so earnest about things like that. He had even made Chris feel excited about the cows (though he'd disappointed Victor by knowing nothing about them).

They eventually found the river by accident. It was full of ice, but it moved very quickly. Looking at it made Chris not want to get too close for fear of falling in and being crushed between the chunks of ice, if he didn't drown first. There was railing along the embankment, though, and so he joined Victor in leaning on it to watch the water.

They didn't say anything for a while. Chris snuck a look at Victor, who had tucked his bare hands against himself and was leaning on his elbows. There was a faraway look on his face again, like at breakfast, and his eyes weren't following the movement of the river.

Chris shifted closer, and not just because the storm was picking up again, though the chill from standing here in the snow and wind was getting to be a bit too much. He wondered if there really was something wrong. He could ask Victor about it later, when they were back inside. For now, perhaps he could cheer him up. Chris leaned in until Victor's head turned his way.

"You look cold," he murmured against Victor's cheek, pressed his lips to the skin there for a moment before withdrawing.

Victor looked at him for a moment, then stepped closer and pulled Chris's arm around him. "Chris," he said lowly, looping his own arms around Chris. A snowflake caught on his eyelashes, then was gone a moment later. The strange expression had vanished from his face; it was good to have Victor's focus all on him.

"Can I kiss you?"

Victor answered by closing the short distance between them himself. His lips, at least, were warm enough, and covered in flavorless chapstick. Chris put his free hand to Victor's cheek, though he couldn't feel much through the glove. They lingered, lips brushing, the snow falling silently around them.

Chris was the one to pull away. "Aren't you going to warm me up properly?" Victor asked, pulling them even closer, a spark in his eyes. So Chris pulled off his gloves, put both hands to Victor's pink, chilled cheeks, and kissed him more deeply. The kiss was very warm indeed, Victor's tongue against his, snow melting on their skin, Chris digging his hands into Victor's hair under his hat. They might have been outside, but the thick snowfall and the deserted street didn't make it feel like that at all; it was more like they had their own private little world here, far from journalists and fans and whoever else would want to know they were kissing here.

Nobody else had to know that Victor was clinging to him, that Victor was making such pretty noises, that Victor was stealing all the thoughts from Chris's head.

When they broke apart, their mingled breath made white plumes in the air, and both of them shivered as the wind kicked up.

They headed back towards the hotel by unspoken agreement, and with Google Maps helping them figure out the subway, it didn't take long. Chris was glad to kick his boots off in Victor's room and stretch his feet. However, he had barely gotten his scarf off before Victor dragged him to the bed to lay next to each other.

"We're getting the blankets wet," Chris protested – that and Victor didn't seem interested in getting their coats off when he could push his face into Chris's cheek instead. Chris sighed and let him, wrapped an arm over him, asked, "Did you have a good time?"

"It was fun," said Victor. "Can we go again tomorrow, if we have time? We should go shopping, too."

"Tomorrow, then." Chris pressed a kiss to his damp hair. "If not, then next time, if you'd like."

"There's only one problem," Victor said after a minute. He paused long enough for Chris's mind to jump to all sorts of possibilities – the fact that they lived in different countries and 'next time' would be weeks from now, or perhaps that his career ate up too much time for this to be a long-term thing, or that he really was going to retire and would Chris still want him then? (Yes, he would, as disappointing as the news would be, because even if he was no longer his rival, he would still be a good friend, handsome Victor who was sweet on his dog and fearless when dealing with the press.) "If we did start dating, nobody would be surprised at _all_ , Chris."

"Oh, is that it?" He laughed. "Not everything has to be like a performance, Victor."

"We've been posting those photos for so long," Victor lamented. "You've said nice things about my ass on international TV."

"We could always keep it a secret until it'd been long enough to be interesting."

"Please tell us your thoughts on Christophe Giacometti," Victor said, imitating a reporter's voice, then switched to the tone he used for interviews. "Oh, Chris, he did look pretty handsome at our wedding last week...." He hummed. "Or we could drop hints and see how long it takes for people to stop calling us friends."

"Longing looks across the ice. Disappearing into hallways together and not coming out for a long time."

"Matching programs. Let me choreograph one for you. I bet it'd be sexier than anything you've skated before."

"I'd like to see you try." He did have a very talented choreographer already. "But only if you don't complain if I use it to win over you."

"That would be perfect," Victor said, a little dreamily, and then they both stopped; it was always awkward to talk about Victor's stack of golds over Chris, and no less so when they were cuddling on a bed together.

Chris had a better idea. He pushed himself up on one elbow and looked toward the window. "I wonder how long the snow will last?"

"It's pretty."

"Here." Chris escaped Victor's grasp so he could peel off his coat and other outerwear, pushed Victor into one of the chairs by the window with the comforter, and then went to go see if there was any tea left in the room. The coffee maker sputtered a lot, but it did heat the water, and Chris returned to Victor with two steaming cups. Two of them were a tight fit for the chair, but Victor made room for him, then leaned into him as soon as he was settled, arms around his waist and head against his chest. Now that they were inside, even his hands felt warm.

Snuggled up together, they watched the lovely snow fall past the window for a long time.


End file.
